


Not My Kind of Holiday

by ultrapsychobrat



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Humor; winter holiday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrapsychobrat/pseuds/ultrapsychobrat





	Not My Kind of Holiday

Winterkris was an Earth holiday that had at one time been a pagan celebration of the winter solstice and at another time been the celebration of a god's birth and at yet another the demarcation between one year and the next. Now it was, through many transformations and reinventions, an excuse to eat and drink and take off work. Some would say that's all it had ever been, but no one really cared. As difficult as it was to keep track of the passage of time as it occurred on Earth out here in space, everyone was sure when Winterkris was near and plans were made to celebrate.

Not everyone on _Liberator_ was an enthusiastic participant, however. Cally had no history of this holiday and so felt rather the outsider in all the preparations. Blake wanted focus on the cause, and thought of Winterkris as a distraction from the serious business of rebellion. Jenna was willing to go along with whatever was going as long as someone else did the work, but as for thinking anything special about the holiday, that was for simpletons. And, of course, no one expected Avon to do more than sneer.

So it was up to Vila and Gan, as it always was when any real work was needed. Not that this was unpleasant work. Decorating became a great raid on the treasure and wardrobe rooms, snagging bolts of gleaming lame, gold and silver cord, and bags of sparkling jewels.

When Blake saw the giant swags and swaths of glittering and bejeweled fabric hung over the walls of the flight deck he caught his breath in a gasp of disbelief, turning in a complete circle to view the elaborate decorations. "Oh, for god's sake, I don't believe this. Who said they could raid the treasure room?"

"It belongs to them, too. I don't suppose they needed permission." Avon's voice, cool and devoid of any real interest, answered from the open access cupboard beneath Zen's main control board.

"Did you know they were doing this?" Blake asked with a note of censure.

"Should I have called you?" Avon asked in mock concern, looking at Blake from over the access door.

"Why didn't you stop them?" A frown of disapproval creased Blake's forehead. "This was a waste of time."

Avon stood up, dusting down his pants and closed the cupboard door. "Why should I? You claim to be leader here; you need to pay closer attention to your minions, of which, I might remind you, I am not a member. Do your own ordering about." He walked over to the flight board and tested the speed calibrations, nodding in satisfaction as they evidently performed as he expected.

"And you're okay with this?"

Avon shrugged and leaned back against the station rest. "Why not? It doesn't affect me one way or the other, and it's a lot safer than the things you think up for us to do. Zen, run through a program check of drive calibrations; mark from my start." He toggled a control and waited for the report from Zen.

+Drive calibrations are aligned.+

Avon turned from the station and moved across to the weapons position and began running simulation checks.

Blake watched him for a minute, waiting for Avon to continue in his usual vein of critique. When nothing else was forthcoming he sighed a bit dispiritedly. "What did your family do for Winterkris?"

Avon looked up at the slight note of wistfulness in Blake's voice, sharp eyes focused on him. "Nothing. Holidays were considered a waste of time. What about yours?"

"I don't remember," Blake said quietly, turning to look once more at the bright decorations, "but I somehow doubt it looked like this, whatever it was."

 

***********

 

Faint strains of some cheerful holiday music, unknown and a bit irritating, drifted down the corridor as Avon made his way to Blake's cabin. Thankfully, the music was beyond hearing after he turned down the next corridor. Tapping in the entry code, he stepped through the door as it opened.

Blake looked up from the plans he had spread out on the table. "Have you looked at this setup for the Illila computer center? Something doesn't look right to me."

"Has anyone informed you that your single-minded focus on this hopeless cause of yours makes you a bit lacking as the…shall we say, bonhomie. Eat, drink, and be merry is hard to achieve while Fearless Leader mopes over his revolution." Avon placed the bottle of wine and glasses he held on top of the plans.

"I'm not moping."

"Petulance, Blake? Even worse." A slight smile quirked Avon's mouth. "This really doesn't suit you. Now pour a drink for both of us and come to bed."

Blake turned in his chair and watched Avon strip. He smiled and shook his head. "Somehow, I don't think this is a traditional Winterkris celebration."

Avon sat back on the bed, drawing up one leg in a deliberately provocative manner. "Well, since neither of us has any memories of what that might be, I thought perhaps you'd prefer _these_ decorations."

Blake stood up hastily and pulled his shirt over his head. "Here's to new traditions."


End file.
